HOLIDAY SPECIAL: ICEHOLES (AN FMAYURI ON ICE CRACK CROSSOVER-yaoi)
by BinaryTales
Summary: As the holiday season approaches, Semeopolis Mayor Roy Mustang has found that his biggest headache is matching wits with the only politician more charming (and devious) than he is: Chairman of the Arts Commission Viktor Nikiforov—a foreign import with hot looks, a hot husband, a knack for cheerful blackmail and a capacity for holding liquor rivaling that of a small brewery...


HOLIDAY SPECIAL: ICEHOLES: ALCHEMISTS ON ICE

PART ONE1: THE NIKIFOROV MANUVER

A YURI ON ICE/FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CROSSOVER CRACK FIC

BY THE BINARY ALCHEMIST 2016

(Set in the fandom AU of The Bishounen Justice League, created by Nochick Fics)

 _Welcome to Semeopolis, capital city of Bishounia. Population: Male. Bishounen.  
Depraved. A city where the Love That Dares Not Speak Its Name never shuts the hell up. _

_As the holiday season approaches, newly elected mayor Roy Mustang has found that his biggest headache is matching wits with the only politician more charming (and devious) than he is: Chairman of the Arts Commission Viktor Nikiforov—a foreign import from Yaoislavia with hot looks, a hot husband, a knack for cheerful blackmail and a capacity for holding liquor rivaling that of a small brewery…_

 _"_ _Note to self: do not let yourself get suckered in to hoisting any type of glass with Viktor-fucking-Nikiforov. Doing so puts you at serious risk of sobering up in some unknown alley with your wallet empty, your trousers gone, and your dignity in tatters…whereupon you will then be called on to make good on some ridiculous promise he will swear you agreed to. He is charming. He is entertaining. He is remarkably good looking._

 _He is one calculating, underhanded son of a bitch and he will beat you every time until you figure out how to take him down without the use of paid assassins or rent boys._

 _Viktor Nikiforov is a first class_ _icehole."—Roy Mustang, Mayor_

Flame Alchemist and Mayor of Semeopolis Roy Mustang had had worse hangovers, but not in living memory. Microscopic demons were plucking at his optic nerves with red hot tweezers. A rusty railroad spike was being driven through his forehead with a ball peen hammer, and his mouth tasted like the entire Amestrian army was marching over his tongue in their filthy sweat socks.

His lips moved faintly. " _Nikiforov…"_

He bolted from his chair and vomited into the nearest potted plant.

Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling. "Could have sworn there was only one chandelier. I'm seeing _five._ " His tongue crawled out to moisten his parched lips. "Five…and they're all swaying." His stomach lurched again. His eyes slid shut. "I'm dying." He announced to the dust balls under his desk. One hand feebly slid towards his waist. He sighed with relief. "I still have my trousers on. Good. Less embarrassing when they call the coroner for me."

The phone rang. It felt like an ice pick through his brain. The answering machine picked up the message.

" _Roy tovarich! It's me, Viktor! Listen, I hope you are feeling better this morning, my friend. Perhaps you should not drink quite so much when we are discussing business, but hey, you're a grown man, you know what you are doing. Of course, I will gratefully accept your promise to clean the vomit stains of my suit—it was custom tailored, you know. As far as the burn marks on the upholstery of my car, well, we can discuss this after the insurance company completes the estimate. Very hard to match the leather—they say they might have to just recover both seats and the dash board, but I tell them, 'hey, my friend Mustang is good for that. He's an honest man' and of course we would never want something like this to get in the papers, da?"_

Damn. Had Roy attempted to torch Viktor's car with flame alchemy? Hell's bells, just how drunk had he been? Maybe he'd been trying to torch Viktor instead…

 _"_ _So! Now that we've got that little unpleasantness out of the way, I will remind you that I will be down at your office at ten o'clock sharp to discuss the holiday ballet we scheduled last night. I would have presented you with my budget for the production last night but, hey, you were feeling not so good at that point, so I must thank you again for that generous blank check. I shall put it to best use, I promise."_

Ballet? _Blank check?_ "No wonder I tried to set your ass on fire, Viktor," Roy growled at the voice on the phone. "You'd better hope my vision doesn't clear up before you get here, or I swear if I can see well enough to aim my fist I'm going to beat the living _borsht_ out of you…."

"Hey, Katsuki! How's the ankle doin'" A cheery wave from Edward Elric caught Yuri's eye as he perched on the front steps of the Semeopolis Center building, waiting for Viktor to show up. Yuri smiled and waved back. While Yuri was close friends with Ed's younger brother Alphonse, he'd always gotten along well with the older sibling. _Maybe Yurio will mellow out eventually like Edward did. I hear he carried a chip on his shoulder all the time and was barking and snapping at everybody in sight when he was in his teens._ Yurio Plisetsky often reminded Yuri of a very small dog whose bark was worse than his bite…but he barked a hell of a lot, and mostly at Yuri and Viktor.

"Scoot over." Ed plopped down, splashing his coffee on the steps. "Jeeze, how can you sit out here in the cold? Aren't you freezing your ass off?" He flicked a gloved finger against the cast on Yuri's leg. "Y'know, we could always cut it off and replace it with automail. Seriously. Fit it with a blade, and you could skate all you want. Of course," he grinned, "Ol' Viktor would have to get used to automail in bed. Roy learned a loooong time ago not to hog the covers, or he gets an ice cold metal foot right up his—"

"Ah…my leg's all right," Yuri cut in nervously. "It's healed, almost. Viktor just doesn't want to take any chances with it yet. Off the ice another month, I guess."

"Sucks for you. Isn't there supposed to be some big ice show or something you were going to be doing for the holiday?"

"Uh, ballet, actually. Viktor's putting on a production of _The Buttcracker_."

"Gotcha." _I'll pass_ , Edward decided. Hockey was one thing—watching a bunch of big guys pounding the snot out of each other on the ice was kind of fun—and the skating wasn't bad either. "Ballet makes me break out in a rash."

Yuri smothered a chuckle. What was it Viktor had said? _"I have yogurt in the ice box that is more cultured than Edward Elric. Still….I think I can work with him."_ Yuri had tried to ferret out exactly what Viktor meant by 'working with' Edward, but then Yuri found himself flat on his back on the sofa with several warm, writhing kilos of Yaoislavian murmuring untranslatable declarations of eternal love and lust—Viktor's two "L Words"—and found himself invaded with such enthusiasm that sitting on the icy stone steps actually felt rather good at this point.

Ed smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Okay, I'm not freezing my nuts off. Roy left before I got up. Better go in and give him his good morning kick."

"You mean kiss."

Ed winked. "You got your idea of foreplay, Katsuki—and I got mine."

"He's….indisposed, Ed." Alphonse tossed a worried glance in the direction of Roy's office door. A sign hung on the knob: _Do Not Disturb—Or It Will Be Your Ass._

"Hmmm…has he been shot?"

"No."

"Stabbed?"

"What? Of course not."

"Drunk?"

"Well—"

"Hold all calls, little brother." Ed cracked his knuckles—flesh and automail—with malicious glee. "I'm about to create a _disturbance…."_

Edward Elric opened the door to Roy Mustang's office. He stepped inside. Grasping the knob with both hands, he yanked it shut with all his strength. It broke the door frame and knocked most of the pictures off the wall. "Wellllll, "he drawled sarcastically, "GOOD MORNING, MAYOR! ANNND ISN'T IT A LOVVVVELY DAY?!"

Bounding enthusiastically up the front steps towards his husband, Viktor Nikiforov froze. "Was that a gun shot?"

In the office, Edward yanked savagely at the window blinds, flooding the room with brilliance. "Y'know, it's too goddamned _dark_ in here. You'd think somebody had a _hangover_ or something." Roy hissed in pain and covered his eyes. "Of course there's only one real cure for a _hangover_ , isn't there?" He went to each window in turn, slamming each one up and open as noisily as he could. "It's GOOD-"SLAM _!_ "-fresh-"SLAM _!_ "—AIR!" _SLAM!_

"I want a divorce."

"Nothin' doing, asshole. You're stuck with me—unless you went to take a piss and found Viktor's cock ring on your junk—in which case I'll settle for being a widower." Blond eyebrows canted upwards in suspicion. "You _were_ out drinking with Viktor last night, right?" Ed hauled Roy back behind his desk and upright into his chair. Pawing through the rat's nest of Roy's desk drawer, he dug out a bottle of aspirins. There was a carafe of water on the sideboard next to the whiskey decanter and Ed poured a shot glass full, passing it to his husband and nodding towards the pill bottle. "I think you can take four without destroying any vital organs…not that you probably sustained a lot of damage knocking down shooters with that conniving son of a bitch—"

 _"_ _Somebody called my name?"_ Crystal blue eyes sparkled as Viktor cheerfully popped his head around the broken door frame. "Roy, _tovarich_! Tchh, what a mess you've made of yourself! I must watch you more carefully when we have business meetings, I think. "

Roy drew on one of his Pyrotex gloves and aimed unsteadily. "Ahh ah, there's no need for violence!" He pronounced it _'wy-o-lence'_. "After all, this is a happy occasion, _da?_ After all, such good news you have to give Edward here! "

"You're emigrating back to Yaoislavia?" Ed suggested hopefully.

" _Nyet!_ Now, I need you to hold still, Edward…this won't take a minute." An elegantly manicured hand slid into Viktor's breast pocket, and a moment later the older man was on his knees with a tape measure. "Hmm now, let me see if you will fit into the costume without alteration. "

"HEY!"

"A little short in the crotch." Viktor looked innocent. "Or so I've heard."

"Hands OFF the junk! And what costume?" He shot Roy a poisonous look. "Roy, what the hell have you gotten me into?"

Busily noting Ed's chest and shoulder measurements, Viktor hummed innocently. He flashed a quick wink towards Roy, whose hangover was being complicated by an additional stress migraine. "What! Roy, you didn't tell him last night? Oh, that is right! I forgot! You had me trapped inside my car, cursing me and trying to incinerate my new upholstery. Tch, such a temper! And all because I told you a true gentleman never goes back on his word."

Roy rubbed his bleary eyes. "What word, Viktor?"

"About being happy to bankroll the entire production of _The Buttcracker_ —and how happy your husband Edward would be to step into the role of the Prince since my Yuri is still recovering from that broken ankle."

Out in the waiting area near Alphonse's desk, Yuri heard a loud crash, a lot of cursing and then the sound of several tiny explosions. He glanced nervously at Al, calmly feeding the fish in his desktop aquarium. "That doesn't sound too good."

Al shrugged. "That doesn't sound half bad, actually. There's no smoke coming out the—well, I guess I spoke too soon." There was a sharp curse in Yaoislavian. " _That's another new suit you'll have to pay for!"_

"Maybe I should—"

"It's safer out here, Yuri," Alphonse assured him. "Now, where did I put the first aid kit…?"

"You said yourself, he's a martial artist. Quick on his feet. Beautiful. Your words, Roy." Viktor's voice rose behind the smoldering sofa. "You couldn't wait to see him in that beautiful costume I told you about. Your eyes got so dreamy…thinking about Ed onstage with his shirt half undone, those tight black pants….his hair swinging free to his waist…"

"What—you see me _naked_ all the time, goddamn it!" Ed shouted. "You mean he got you all hot and bothered about seeing me play fuckin' _dress up?_ " Stomping around the sofa, he aimed a kick at Viktor's backside. "And as for you, _tovarich_ , you can get your goddamned rhinestone-studded glittery ass out of here right now. If you think for one fuckin' minute I'm about to…"

..A dark wind, fragrant and warm and tempting, swept through the room. The faint odor of musk and ocean wind and cherry blossoms.

Edward could not move. Neither could Roy.

Dark eyes, all consuming, burned into Edward's own. Something silky and sweet brushed delicately across his lower lip. There was a tickle of soft, warm breath in his ears in some ancient tongue he could not understand.

His body was rigid. In more ways than one.

One word—and one only—echoed through his brain. " _Submit_."

All the scientific logic and reason and skepticism drained out of his brain. All the blood rushed from one head to the other—the same one that was currently rising in Roy's trousers as well...

"Pass me those aspirins."

"Sure."

Ed chased them down with a neat shot of whiskey. "You wanna tell me what the fuck just happened here?"

Roy glanced down at his crotch, genuinely impressed. "Something got into us… _figuratively, that_ is. Where did Viktor go?"

Ed managed to drag himself—and a rather impressive erection—to the window. "He's making out with Yuri in the parking lot." He leaned out and shouted to them. _"Hey, get a room, you two!"_

He found himself pushed forward and bent over the window sill. Warm hands gripped his hips and a familiar voice purred in his ear. "An excellent suggestion, Ed."

Turning in his husband's arms, Ed stared up at Roy. "One thing—if…and I say IF…I'm gonna do this ballet shit…who is going to be my partner?"

On the other side of town, Yurio Plisetsky slammed down the phone in Viktor Nikiforov ear.

 _"_ _DIE!"_

….TO BE CONTINUED…..


End file.
